Pendragon

Chapter 8

HE COULD ONLY stare down at her. She was without guile. She also had an outrageous streak that was a good mile wide. She'd lined up her cousins? "You simply wished to experiment?"

"Well, yes. You see, Max and Leo, my brothers, absolutely refused to kiss me, so they announced that they would judge which cousin kissed the best. But as I think about it now, I think I should have been the judge, not two boys who knew nothing about anything."

"It makes sense to me. What criteria did Max and Leo use to choose the winner?"

Meggie thought back to that splendid day, at the line of dratted cousins, all of them nervous, afraid, knowing there was a lot on the line here, but each eager. "Hmm. They picked Grayson, my uncle Ryder's son. But the criteria-they claimed they awarded Grayson on form. But come to think of it, they might have picked Grayson no matter what the contest. You know, Grayson tells marvelous stories-ghost stories, adventure stories, really scary gnarly stories-and he'd told them a hair-raising ghost story just the night before about midnight. It was about this old man whose wife shoved him into a well and left him there to die, but his ghost came after her, did all sorts of gruesome things, and Max and Leo were so scared, so happy, wanting so badly to hear Grayson tell another story, that they didn't even hesitate. Do you know, they announced Grayson the winner before poor James was barely finished."

"This is an amazing story," he said slowly. He tried to remember a single evening in his growing-up years that could possibly have been as delightful as this one. He couldn't dredge a single one up. Then he remembered Nathan had taught him how to dive into the ocean from the cliff that summer of his tenth year. Nathan, who'd left, joined the army, and died in Spain so many years ago.

He shook this off. "Who is James?" he asked.

"He is my uncle Douglas's oldest son. He and Jason are twins, born only about thirty minutes apart. James will be the earl of Northcliffe someday. Did you know that they are quite the most beautiful young men in the world?"

"No, I didn't know. They weren't beautiful then? You weren't infatuated with one of them when you were younger?"

"Oh no. Both of them have very bad habits. I was always trying to make them better. Now it will be up to their wives to improve upon them, if they ever marry, that is. My uncle Douglas always despaired for their characters since they are so beautiful. In all fairness to other males, though, it's really unfortunate that today they are quite unspoiled-only male sorts of bad habits that one simply cannot eradicate-but in their hearts, they are not rotten at all."

"Not rotten at all?"

"No more rotten now than any of their contemporaries. You know, they curse and brag and steal their father's brandy, run races at midnight and nearly break their necks, lay wagers on who can spit the farthest, that sort of thing. They don't gamble or get sent down from Oxford or seduce local girls."

Thomas doubted that last sincerely. They were young men. That was what young men did, rotten or not. Hope fully, they really had outgrown the worst of it. "May I kiss you again?"

"Whyever for?"

He said slowly, even as he lowered his head, "I want to see if you compare me favorably to your cousins."

"But that was a long time ago and we were all children and-"

He kissed her. This time it wasn't just touching mouth to mouth. This time there was a bit of pressure, a bit more coaxing, and lots of warmth. His hands were on her arms, slowly bringing her closer. Then he opened his mouth.

He actually opened his mouth, Meggie thought, appalled, like he was going to speak or eat his dinner or butcher a high note like that Milanese soprano.

She felt his tongue lightly pressing against her lips, but she kept her mouth shut. Meggie blinked up at him. His eyes weren't closed. When he saw the shock in her eyes, he drew back.

She didn't jump back or slap him. She simply stood there, looking thoughtful, staring up at him. Finally she said, "That was very strange. Since you have lived outside England for a very long time, perhaps you have forgotten English customs, my lord. That, I am quite certain, cannot be one of them. You opened your mouth, you touched your tongue to my lower lip, my upper lip as well, and you sort of licked me. Surely that isn't done here in England, only in some foreign country where there is permission to explore shameless sorts of things."

He had to smile. "Actually, Meggie, I swear to you it is the done thing."

He saw that she wasn't quite ready to accept that. She said, "So it is the done thing where you have lived all these years? Did someone instruct you to do this where you were brought up? Where you grew into manhood?"

"Oh yes, but instruction really isn't necessary. Well, perhaps some instruction would be helpful to some young men. What is necessary is practice, a great deal of it, although by its very nature, there is a lot of built-in practice involved in the process."

"What process?"

"The lovemaking process. Kissing simply sets the whole business off."

"Oh."

"Yes, it is done all the time. It is even done in China." He was lightly stroking his hands up and down her arms. The velvet riding habit was still a bit damp. "Actually, Meggie, there is something that you need to know since you are now a woman."

"What is that?"

"It is even done here in England."

"You are certain about this? This tongue business?"

"Oh yes."

"Really in China as well as in England?"

"Oh yes."

And she realized: Then Jeremy must do this to Charlotte. He opens his mouth when he kisses her. Does she open her mouth as well? No, no, don't think about that.

"Did you find it distasteful?"

Meggie thought about that a moment, considered it. Her forehead was furrowed, and she chewed on her bottom lip. He wanted to touch his fingertip to her bottom Up, perhaps stroke her bottom lip with his tongue.

"No, it wasn't distasteful, just very curious. Goodness, I wonder if my father and Mary Rose do that."

She looked utterly appalled as she said the words, looked as though she'd give anything to take the words back, to take back the fact that she'd even thought of it. Again, he held back a laugh, and said, "I am not so deranged to comment on the marital habits of a vicar and his wife."

"You're right. I shouldn't either." Meggie sighed. "Is that a sliver of weak sun?"

"It is. And look, it is no longer raining."

She didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed. This had been a very strange morning.

"I wonder," she said, "if Max and Leo would judge you to be the kissing winner now."

"Yes," he said, "they most certainly would."

She laughed, but it wasn't full and delighted, it was reedy and wary because she was thinking about his mouth against hers, about feeling him against her as well, his big hands stroking her, and it was as frightening as it was fascinating.

He looked at her upturned face and thought, Well, I've taught you something and it both worries and interests you. It's a good start.

He said easily, "You see, to ensure that they would select me the winner, I would tell them an excellent story about scaly fire-breathing dragons and the witless knights who had nothing better to do than track them to their caves."

"I fear Max and Leo are no longer bribed with good stories. Actually, I'm not sure what would sway them now. They are young men and I simply no longer know. The problem is the male brain-it is wholly mysterious and unpredictable. It's rather like a mass of confusion in your head." She sighed then. "I really did my best raising them. Max is going to be a vicar, like Papa, so he can't be too wicked, can he?"

"Oh no. So you're telling me that you raised your brothers?"

"Oh yes, at least until my father married Mary Rose. I was ten and a good-sized girl, lots bigger and stronger than they were. I could pound them whenever they needed it, which was quite often, being that they were boys, and had no sense at all. Yes, they required a great deal of discipline, and a vigilant eye. Leo was the prankster. I'll never forget the time he cut a strip out of the back of my gown. I threw him in the bushes for that stunt."

He laughed. He realized he'd laughed more since he'd met her than in a very long time.

They led their horses out of the barn. Pen whinnied, delighted to have escaped, hide intact. Leaves dripped water, the ground was spongy. He gave her a leg up, saying as she smoothed her skirts over her legs, "I hear from Dr. Dreyfus that Rory will be up to all sorts of mischief by the end of the week."

"Oh yes. Let me thank you again, my lord."

"You can thank me by calling me Thomas."

"If you put it that way. All right. Thomas. It is a good name, a solid name. I will use it. Since you've kissed me, using your tongue, I suppose I know you well enough."

"Yes, I believe you do, at last. Dr. Dreyfus also wants to analyze all the medicines my partner in Italy sent me. He has asked me to have that maringo root sent here to see if it can be grown in England. He is very excited about it."

Meggie wasn't really listening. Thomas Malcombe wasn't a cousin. She'd known him such a short time, and he'd opened his mouth when he'd kissed her that second time.

He wasn't Jeremy.

She managed to bring herself back to the point. "There was another case of the virulent fever, and Dr. Dreyfus immediately administered your drug. Little Melissa perked up very quickly."

"Yes, everyone in the village told me about it."

"Everyone in the village is also singing your praises. The men are toasting you in the taproom. The ladies are so fulsome in their praise that your ears should be burning. You are rapidly working up to local hero."

"I like that," he said, and lightly laid his hands over hers. "I would like to see the Channel."

Meggie raised her face to the watery sun, and smiled. "I should like that as well," she said.

She wondered if perhaps she should kiss him again. Was the female supposed to open her mouth as well? Perhaps touch his mouth with her tongue?

She shivered. This was new ground, probably unsafe ground. She wasn't at all certain that she wanted to walk here. She thought of Jeremy kissing her, knowing it would spin her off her feet, and felt a deep shaft of pain. He said, "Perhaps you could be specific about what the ladies are saying about me and my magnificence. I would like my ears to burn a bit. They never have before."

"I'm not sure that is such a good idea," Meggie said. "I think you could grow far too used to being worshipped," and nudged her boot heels into Survivor's sides.